


Birthday Dessert

by Bricker



Category: Free!
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, SUPER late contribution to makoto 2016 birthday exchange, Seijuurou and Sousuke are dicks that love each other, bottom makoto, but most importantly makoto, implied aki/haru/gou, porn w/ plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bricker/pseuds/Bricker
Summary: Seijuurou lets loose a laugh that dances on the border of being a cackle. “Ohoho, yeah, baby. Cake isn’t the only dessert you’ll be getting for your birthday.” “Oh my god,” Makoto says, just as Sousuke scoffs with a, “That was fucking awful.” “Shut up, it was sexy.” “You’re an embarrassment to this whole operation.” “Fuck you, it’s mandatory to relate birthday sex to birthday dessert. Everybody knows that.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ad_Astra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/gifts).



> So, this was meant to be a party-favor fill for the Makoto Tachibana Birthday Exchange 2016, but I missed it... by a long shot. :') Oh well, better late than never, right? This is for Ad_Astra, who is a phenomenal writer I've looked up to since I joined the Free! fandom, and has blessed the planet with her writing. 
> 
> Ad_Astra asked for some Seijuurou/Makoto/Sousuke porn. More specifically: "filthy consensual, threesome porn with either of these combinations, with Makoto taking it from both his loving boyfriends. Headcanon that they all switch around but Makoto particularly requested that they go to town on his ass (and then some) for his birthday :3"
> 
> I thought it would be a lot of fun to write, (Seimakosou is a good, severely underappreciated ship,) so I had at it.

Dating Makoto typically means getting treated to something you didn’t even know you wanted, but once you have it, you can’t imagine how you managed to get this far without it.

Like rain after weeks of only heat, or a careful massage after hours of nothing but bending uncomfortably over a computer screen. Sometimes Sousuke comes home, so worn he’s positive there’s nothing he’d like more than to curl up in a ball and maybe die. Those days have grown more and more in frequency, but every time, Makoto’s waiting to kiss his throbbing temple or press a steaming cup into his hands, and it all feels a little less shitty, because at least Makoto’s here. Sousuke finds comfort in knowing that every day, Makoto’s waiting at the finish line to catch him when he drops from exhaustion. 

If Makoto were a sensation, it would be relief. There are a thousand other feelings Sousuke associates with him, (contentment, glee, arousal, irritation...to name a few,) but pure, beautiful relief is what he always feels first. 

He’s forever grateful for that. It’s subtle, not as blunt as Seijuurou’s constant, inspiring dedication and ambition, but it does wonders. Sousuke doubts he’d have made it this far without Makoto. Makoto, who has always been willing to stop and sit with him in the shade while everyone else charges on, who kisses his knuckles when they’re bruised from beating at the same brick walls, who whispers sweet nothings that turn into booming echoes in Sousuke’s chest when he feels empty.. As somebody who’s worked himself to the point of self destruction, again and again, only to come up short, that speaks volumes to Sousuke.

So yeah. That’s his excuse, for getting a little emotional when Makoto’s birthday rolls around. 

It must be real, if he’s getting a bit of a lump in his throat and a sudden desire to call up Makoto’s mother and thank her profusely as he’s making birthday breakfast. 

The first of many snows to come is falling outside - a little late this year. They’re nearing the end of the calendar, and Sousuke can actually say with confidence that this year hasn’t been super sucky. Not great, but okay. A lot of shit has happened, (the western countries seem to be in tatters at the moment,) but he thinks that he, Makoto, and Seijuurou have really settled into this… thing, they have. The both of them have made this year a little better than Sousuke had anticipated.

He can hear Seijuurou and Makoto laughing softly in the bedroom. Seijuurou’s been sworn off anything sexual until tonight, when he and Sousuke plan to… entertain, more thoroughly. Still, Sousuke keeps an ear out for any sign of Seijuurou going against their deal. He wouldn’t put it past him. It is, admittedly, pretty hard to keep your hands off of Makoto, pinky-promises prohibiting so or otherwise. 

Thankfully he doesn’t hear anything, and the pair of them wander into the kitchen still fully-dressed and moderately sleepy just as Sousuke’s setting the last of breakfast out on their little table. The dopey smile Makoto gets when he sees the spread is well worth waking up earlier than usual. 

“You really didn’t have to,” Makoto says, more or less flopping against Sousuke to give him a kiss. It’s much preferable to what Sousuke usually gets from him in the mornings: a sour, exhausted look and the silent treatment until coffee has been officially consumed. Seijuurou must’ve really sweetened him up in bed to break through the typical morning attitude. 

“I wanted to,” Sousuke says. He wraps his arms around Makoto’s neck, and they teeter, Makoto smiling into his cheek. “Happy birthday, sexy.” 

“We wanted to,” Seijuurou corrects from the table, where’s he’s already loading his plate up. 

Sousuke rolls his eyes. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“I subdued him, didn’t I? Look at how relaxed he is. Wasn’t like that earlier. He actually flipped me off when I was waking him up.” 

“It was a moment of mental weakness,” Makoto says, his voice flimsy with guilt. Sousuke nips at his earlobe and whispers, ‘naughty,’ which earns him a snort. “I said I was sorry.”

“Hey, I’m not blaming you,” Seijuurou replies. “Just saying. It took a lot of work, getting you from there to here.” 

“Thank you for your sacrifice,” Sousuke says in a drawl, and Seijuurou tilts his head, smiles wide, and gives him a fine display of his middle finger. 

Makoto groans. “Guys.” 

“As I was saying,” Sousuke says with a tone of finality, pulling away from Makoto just enough for their noses to brush. “Happy birthday, Makoto.” 

“Thank you,” Makoto hums. He gives Sousuke’s ass a pat. “Much appreciated.” 

“Bet you thought we were going to forget.” 

“Honestly? I… wouldn’t have been too surprised, if that had been the case.” 

“Hey,” Seijuurou complains around a mouthful of pancake. “I remember things.” 

“Sometimes,” Sousuke adds, dropping his arms from around Makoto’s neck to rub at his biceps.

“Fuck off, I remembered your birthday, didn’t I?” 

“Sure. But you were also under the impression that I’m not, in fact, allergic to cinnamon, and made me a french toast birthday breakfast. I got to spend my birthday morning watching Makoto eat both of our shares while you left to get more eggs.” 

Makoto hums at the memory. “That was good french toast.” 

“Fine, so I forget some things,” Seijuurou says grouchily. He takes a rather aggressive sip of orange juice. “But we can all agree I’m not as bad as you, and that’s the important thing here.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Sousuke turns his attention back on Makoto, teasing the hem of his t-shirt’s sleeves. “Seriously, though. We’ve got it all figured out. Just watch, we’re going to treat you to a real, proper birthday. None of that lameass college shit we did before. The candles are gonna be in an actual cake now, not just a lukewarm muffin.” 

Makoto ducks his head and grins softly down at the kitchen tile. “You guys really didn’t have to …” 

“You’re so cute,” Seijuurou gushes. Makoto and Sousuke shift to the side so they’re both facing him, Sousuke’s hands on Makoto’s biceps keeping them close. Seijuurou shakes his head and points his fork at Makoto with an exaggerated flourish. “Look at him, Sou. Getting so flustered about basic birthday traditions. How fuckin’ cute is that.”

“I’m not flustered,” Makoto protests, just as Sousuke says, “really fuckin’ cute.” Makoto purses his lips at him and gives him a half-hearted thwack upside the head, making him laugh. 

Seijuurou gives another twirl of his fork to motion to the seat beside him. “Come sit down, cutie, your birthday breakfast is getting cold.” 

“I’m not flustered,” Makoto repeats to himself as he obeys, but there’s a lot less conviction in his voice. He accepts the heap of pancakes Seijuurou stacks onto his plate and the kiss to top it off with a tired smile. Sousuke takes a seat too, his knees bumping both Makoto’s and Seijuurou’s. The downside to being in a relationship with two other six foot men and owning a shitty little table, he supposes. 

“So, here’s what Sousuke and I were thinking,” Seijuurou says, setting a hand flat on the table in a ‘shut-up-and-pay-attention’ sort of gesture. His other hand deftly plucks a grape from his plate and pops it into his mouth. “You get off later than us, so that’ll give us the chance to make your cake before you check out. Haruka, Rin, Kisumi, and Gou are definitely coming over to hang out and drop off gifts. Nagisa and Rei’s presence is still undetermined, but there’s a good chance they’ll come, too. Nothing too fancy, like you asked, just some friendly company and maybe a movie in the living room. Plus, we got you some hella nice gifts, so that’s something else to look forward to.” 

Makoto hums in approval against the rim of his glass before setting it down. “Aw, guys. That sounds perfect.” 

“I take it you’re gonna be requesting a chocolate cake?” Sousuke says. 

“Yes, please,” Makoto agrees. He shakes his head down at his plate, his shoulders bunching as if he suddenly feels too big for his seat. “God, I don’t even know how to respond to all this. This is all too sweet and too much trouble, you guys really didn’t have to go to such measures-” 

“Makoto, I’m a Mikoshiba,” Seijuurou says, very seriously. He takes Makoto’s hand and pats it like a wise old man comforting a child. “And if there’s one thing Mikoshibas pride themselves in, it’s milking the shit out of their significant others’ birthday. For your sake, I’m willing to keep the festivities at a bare minimum, but only just. This is not only a matter of your happiness, it’s a matter of family pride.” 

“That,” Sousuke begins, jabbing his fork at him. “Is something you totally just pulled out of your ass, but I agree with the intended message. Really, Makoto. We’re all about spoiling you. Don’t worry about it being too much trouble.” 

“Can’t help it,” Makoto says with a sigh. He twists his hand in Seijuurou’s to twine their fingers and squeezes. “But I promise I’ll try not to.” 

“Good,” Seijuurou says. “Because we like to spoil you, dammit.” 

“By the way,” Sousuke says, smirking down at his plate as he guides the remains of his pancake to the center to finish it off. “I hope you know we have every intention to fulfill your wildest sexual fantasies tonight.” 

Makoto groans, his grin widening and his ears turning pink. “Uh oh.” 

Seijuurou lets loose a laugh that dances on the border of being a cackle. “Ohoho, yeah, baby. Cake isn’t the only dessert you’ll be getting for your birthday.” 

“Oh my god,” Makoto says, just as Sousuke scoffs with a, “That was fucking awful.” 

“Shut up, it was sexy.” 

“You’re an embarrassment to this whole operation.” 

“Fuck you, it’s mandatory to relate birthday sex to birthday dessert. Everybody knows that.” 

“I do feel like there’s an unspoken rule,” Makoto agrees quietly, and Seijuurou gives a mocking, “HA!” at being supported. “That doesn’t make it any better, though.”  
“Ha,” Sousuke supplies back in a level tone, and Seijuurou leans away, wounded. 

“You two are so cruel. Can a man not make a cliche, sexual implication without it being judged?” 

“I’m sorry,” Makoto says sweetly, giving Seijuurou’s hand another squeeze. His amused grin gives him away, though. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Sousuke sighs. He shifts in his chair to face Makoto as fully as he can. “So, while we’re on the topic of birthday sex. Any specific requests? Something we should prepare for?” 

Makoto lifts an eyebrow. “Prepare for?”

“Like, if you were to fuck me until I limp, for example. I’d prefer to call in sick ahead of time.” 

“Or maybe you’d like me to pick up some toys on my break,” Seijuurou adds. 

“Hm.” Makoto purses his lips in thought. He leans back, folding his arms over his chest and tilting his head like a curious puppy. It’s cute, despite the less innocent thoughts he’s obviously mulling over. “You know, my only request doesn’t really involve any… preparation, on your part.” 

“Oh?” Seijuurou leans forward. “What is it?” 

“Honestly?” Makoto shrugs a shoulder, smiling much too sweetly. “I just want to get fucked hard.”

His words are initially met with only silence. Sousuke and Seijuurou exchange a shocked look, partly because of the request, partly because of the language used. 

Makoto’s not nearly as hesitant about sex as he was at the beginning, but how blunt the response is still has Sousuke’s mind going blank with alarm. If Sousuke and Seijuurou had answered with that, nobody would’ve batted an eyelash, but Makoto…. Makoto’s cautious and teasing. Hearing him say that is both surprising and dangerously sexy. Sousuke swears the heat that drops immediately down to his crotch just set some sort of record. 

“If that’s not too much, of course,” Makoto adds, looking much too pleased with their reaction. Seijuurou lets out a puff of surprised laughter, his shock-slack lips spreading wide with a thrilled grin. 

“Um, w-no, I don’t think that’s… too much,” he says, fidgeting in his seat. Sousuke assumes he’s facing a similar dilemma. “Nah, that’s… that’s fine. Cool.” 

“Great,” Makoto replies, beaming. He opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by a cheery chirping from the phone in his pocket. He slips it out. “Ah, it’s mom. Excuse me.” 

He stands and pushes his way into the other room, answering the call cheerily. Sousuke and Seijuurou are left at the breakfast table to recover. 

“Well, then,” Sousuke says, and Seijuurou shakes his head, laughing in disbelief to himself. 

 

-o0o-

 

Seijuurou’s already not the most patient of people, and Makoto’s really not helping. 

Their friends have only been here thirty minutes, and already Seijuurou wants them to all leave so they can skip to the good part of Makoto’s birthday celebration. And he doesn’t care what anybody says, Makoto is totally encouraging this itch to jump his bones. Nobody licks frosting from their fork that seductively without having ulterior motives. He’s also “accidentally” tapped his ass against Seijuurou’s crotch twice now, using how cramped their kitchen is as an excuse.

Not to mention what he’s doing now, his heel just barely massaging Seijuurou’s crotch under the blanket they’re lounging under on the couch as they and Makoto’s party guests watch a movie. Seijuurou’s already half hard and Makoto’s barely touching him. 

Makoto’s totally feeding the flames of Seijuurou’s enthusiasm to deliver a good birthday fuck. Definitely, without a doubt. If this continues, Seijuurou’s going to be so desperate to get him in bed once everybody’s left that he’ll probably forget to wait for Sousuke to catch up. No offense to Sousuke, but seriously, Makoto’s not messing around tonight. At all. His intentions are pretty clear: drive Seijuurou up the fucking wall while he can, and reap the rewards once it’s time for his request to be filled. 

Pretty clever, Tachibana. 

If Seijuurou pays close attention, he can safely say Sousuke’s getting the same treatment. Seijuurou’s pretty sure Makoto’s groped him a couple times tonight, along with some bending over in front of him and some absent touches to the small of his back, where Sousuke’s especially weak. Poor Sousuke doesn’t seem to know how to respond to it. He just stiffens up and glares down at the ground, looking so frustrated Seijuurou feels bad. 

Maybe Seijuurou won’t have to worry about Sousuke keeping up after all. The both of them could very well be equally desperate to get to it once the coast is clear. 

Nagisa and Rei did end up coming over with the rest of the guys, along with a surprise guest: Gou’s new girlfriend, Aki. Who’s also a little more than just friendly with Haruka, for some reason…? Seijuurou’s lowkey getting deja vu from when he, Sousuke, and Makoto first started drifting into what would eventually be the relationship they have now. 

“Share, Gou,” Aki hisses, from where she’s sitting on the living room floor, attempting to get a piece of cake off Gou’s plate. Her legs are cast over Haruka’s lap, knees propped up against his chest. He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s absently rubbing her ankle as he watches the movie, as if they’ve known each other for forever. 

“No way, this is mine,” Gou whispers tartly back. She holds her plate out of reach of Aki’s aggressive fork. “You already had a piece.” 

“But I’m still hungry…” Aki whines, sticking her bottom lip out. “Gou-chan…” 

“Here,” Haruka says, holding out his own plate. “You can have the rest of mine.” 

Aki brightens. “Why, thank you, Haru!” 

“Sure.” 

Kisumi shushes them from where he’s curled up on Makoto’s beanbag. “Guys, the movie!” 

“Okay, okay… Sorry.” 

Seijuurou’s barely paying attention to them. He’s not exactly paying attention to the movie, either. Makoto’s foot has gone from ghosting over his crotch to settling between his legs to rub at the zipper of his pants. Heavy arousal shoots down to meet it, and Seijuurou bites back a groan. 

He makes the mistake of glancing over at Makoto, who’s peacefully watching the movie, leaning back against Sousuke’s chest. The three of them are sitting with a clump blankets strewn over them, similar to the mess of pillows and quilts everyone else is cuddling up to, so Seijuurou doesn’t realize at first that Makoto’s got the arm next to the couch’s backrest wedged between him and Sousuke, palming at his crotch. He probably wouldn’t have noticed at all if it weren’t for the deep flush in Sousuke’s ears. 

Damn, Makoto. 

Lucky for Seijuurou and Sousuke, Rei is an actual angel sent from heaven to free them of their suffering. 

“Whoa, it’s really late,” he says, about three-quarters through the movie. He looks back at the rest of them. “Maybe we should head out, guys.” 

“It’s not that late,” Kisumi protests. “Let’s just finish the movie, it’s almost over.” 

“It’s eleven at night, Kisumi.” 

“And it’s twenty minutes until the end of the movie. C’mon, just until he finds out who the murderer really is.” 

“Nah, I think Rei is right,” Rin says. He stands and twists to crack his back. “There’s not much time left before it’s not Makoto’s birthday anymore. Maybe we should let his boyfriends see the rest of it through.” 

“You don’t have to go,” Makoto says, and Seijuurou nearly screams at that, because yes, they do have to go, and also Makoto just pulled his foot away, which means what little friction Seijuurou had is now gone. He decides that Makoto is actually evil incarnate. 

“No, it’s okay,” Gou says, waving him off. “I’m bone tired, anyway. Better leave now, before I fall asleep on your floor and Aki has to carry me home.” 

“Yeah, no thanks,” Aki says, laughing. She accepts Gou’s hand when she offers to help her up. “This was fun, though! Happy birthday, Makoto!” 

“Yeah, thanks for inviting us!” Nagisa says, getting to his feet. He gives the three of them a wink. “Hope your boys make the rest of the night worthwhile, Mako-chan.” 

Makoto laughs weakly. “Thanks, Nagisa.” 

“Use protection,” Haruka says in his flat voice, and Aki and Rin snort. 

“Haru,” Makoto groans, with little conviction. He stands up. “Here, let me walk you guys to the door. Maybe we can finish the movie some other time. Rei’s birthday is coming up, too...” 

Seijuurou and Sousuke let out identical sighs of frustration, once everyone’s moved safely to the threshold of the house. The door clicks shut behind Makoto, where Seijuurou assumes he’s sending them off.

“I hate him,” Sousuke hisses, immediately tugging his t-shirt over his head. Despite the conviction in his voice, he’s smirking with anticipation. “He’s going to pay for that.”

Seijuurou makes a weak sound in the back of his throat in agreement, his fingers fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “Pretty sure that was the whole point.” 

“Yeah, well, now I’m so horny I’m pretty sure I might explode, so.” 

Seijuurou laughs. He immediately parts his lips when Sousuke yanks him into a sloppy kiss. So much for not being able to keep up with each other. He tangles his fingers in Sousuke’s hair, and Sousuke’s kind enough to rid him of his shirt, his hands grasping at his chest. 

The door clicks open again, and Seijuurou is vaguely aware of Makoto slipping back inside. “Well, hello.” 

Seijuurou and Sousuke pull apart to look up at him, breathing heavily through their noses. Makoto grins, leaning against the livingroom door frame. 

“That’s a pretty picture,” he muses. 

“You little shit,” Sousuke grumbles, and Makoto’s smile widens as he pulls himself away from Seijuurou and stalks over to him. Sousuke pins him against the doorframe and forces their lips together, and Seijuurou nearly moans out loud at the sight. Makoto hums in approval, slipping a thigh up between Sousuke’s legs for him to grind against, which he responds to enthusiastically. Makoto’s shirt flutters to the floor in record time, and suddenly all Seijuurou is capable of seeing is gorgeous muscle against muscle.

Fuck, do they look good together. Seijuurou’s tempted to just get himself off watching them. He doubts it would take very long, to be honest. Makoto’s definitely riled him up enough, and anything involving Sousuke and Makoto is better than any porn the world has to offer. 

“Sei,” Makoto gasps, when Sousuke dips his head to suck at his throat, their bodies rocking together. The way he says his name so breathlessly… Seijuurou has to focus on approaching them slowly, so he doesn’t look like a total moron tripping over himself. 

“You’re awful,” Seijuurou informs him once he’s safely approached, and Makoto grins sweetly before cupping the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a desperate kiss. Sousuke’s kind enough to give them more room by getting down on his knees, trailing kisses down Makoto’s chest as he goes. Seijuurou appreciates that, because he now has the space to cup Makoto’s face and guide his mouth more open with a thumb pressing against the hollow of his cheek. He also appreciates it because Makoto makes the most fantastic sound against his lips when Sousuke closes his mouth around his cock. 

“In my defense,” Makoto murmurs breathlessly, his voice hitching when Sousuke’s lips slide further down his length. “It’s really hot, seeing you - mmmh - guys riled up.” 

“You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” Seijuurou says. He cups Makoto’s side and rolls a thumb over his nipple, incredibly satisfied with the way Makoto’s lips part with a gasp. “And I grew up with Momo.” 

“Please don’t talk about your brother right now,” Makoto says in one breath. He slams his head against the doorframe as Sousuke moans around him, taking him in nearly all the way. “Ohhhhh, God.” 

“Sorry.” Seijuurou smooths Sousuke’s bangs back as he pulls away. “Hey, get off his dick for a second so we can move, it’s drafty right here.” 

Sousuke gives him a glare, but obediently pulls off. “You don’t want to fuck him in the doorway? I gotta say, I’m tempted. Revenge is sweet, as they say.” 

“It’s his birthday, we can’t in the hallway.” 

“Fine, but we should some other time, because I’m kinda digging-” 

“Holy shit, please just fuck me,” Makoto bursts. “Let’s talk about this when we’re not all in stages of undress. On my birthday.”

Seijuurou lets out a burst of laughter. “Fair enough.” 

Because he’s always looking for a chance to show off, and because it is Makoto’s birthday after all, Seijuurou pulls Makoto flush against him, grips his thighs, and heaves him up. Makoto yelps. He catches himself on Seijuurou’s shoulders and locks his ankles around his waist, taking a second to recover before crashing their mouths back together. Seijuurou hesitates a beat, adjusting to the sudden weight, before walking them into the bedroom. They fall together onto the bed, their bodies immediately falling into a rhythmic roll against each other. 

“Show-off,” Sousuke grumbles as he follows them in, immediately going to the bedside table to grab the lube and condoms. The bed creaks under his weight when he crawls on after them. Without breaking his kiss with Makoto, Seijuurou rolls to the side to give him access to Makoto’s body, which he takes advantage of, dragging a hand down his chest and making a sound of appreciation. Makoto arches into his touch with a sigh that Seijuurou feels in his lungs. 

“I hope you know you’re ridiculously sexy, Makoto,” Sousuke says. He shifts, kneeling between Makoto’s legs, his hands all but ripping his jeans and briefs down past his knees. Seijuurou gives a hum of agreement against Makoto’s mouth before dropping to suck at his throat, pushing his own pants down. 

“Sousuke,” Makoto groans. It’s probably meant to be a protest to the compliment, but his breathlessness just makes it sound terribly sultry. Seijuurou nips at his earlobe in approval, a fresh wave of heat pulsing down to his crotch. Seijuurou can’t decide which he likes better: Makoto whining Sousuke’s name like that, or Sousuke gasping his. Both cases are a whole new level of hot, in his humble opinion. 

“Dibs on fucking him,” Seijuurou says, pushing himself up on his elbow. Makoto whimpers at the absence of his mouth on his skin, which he ignores in favor of giving Sousuke a triumphant grin. “Ha.” 

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

“It’s plenty fair. Dibs is the epitome of fair.” 

“Are you actually twelve?” 

“I wouldn’t mind you both fucking me,” Makoto says. He grins, lets his arms flop back on the sheets over his head, and spreads his legs. “It’s just a matter of who goes first, right?” 

Seijuurou and Sousuke don’t have immediate responses to that, but Seijuurou has to actually suppress a shudder as heavy heat throbs through him. 

It’s confirmed, then. Makoto’s actually evil incarnate. 

“Dibs,” Sousuke says. 

“What? No,” Seijuurou snaps. “I called it first. The original dibs still stands.” 

“Fine, whatever!” Sousuke snatches the lube from where he tossed it on the bed, squirting a generous amount on his fingers. “Let’s just get to it, I’m so hard I’m going to explode.” 

Makoto laughs breathlessly. “Not yet, you still have to-sHIT!” 

He’s cut off by his own choked curse as Sousuke presses a finger in, hooking his free hand under Makoto’s knee and pushing his leg back. Makoto moans, curling his hands into the sheets above his head as he rocks back to meet him. Sousuke bends down to lick up the underside of his cock, his finger working steadily in and out. It’s a truly beautiful sight. Seijuurou curses under his breath, cups the nape of Makoto’s neck, and kisses him sloppily. He uses his other hand to press and rub over Makoto’s nipple, prompting the flutter of Makoto’s lips mouthing his name against his. 

Sousuke adds another finger quicker than Seijuurou expected, and Makoto tilts his chin up against Seijuurou’s kiss with a groan. He’s fallen into a steady motion, rolling his hips down against Sousuke’s fingers before letting them stutter slightly up, urging his cock further into Sousuke’s mouth. Sousuke moans around him, his own hips pressing against the mattress. He adds a third finger, and Makoto arches his back with a whine that Seijuurou swallows. 

“Please,” Makoto whispers, just loud enough for Seijuurou to hear. He opens his eyes to meet Seijuurou’s gaze, glassy and green and all sorts of inviting. A stray strand of hair sticks to his flushed cheek, the rest of his hair swept back against the sheets. Sousuke must be doing something right, because his voice cracks with a sharp intake of breath when he speaks. “Seijuurou.” 

“Fuck, Makoto,” Seijuurou breathes in response, sitting up. He kisses Makoto again, fleeting and soft, before shifting down his body. 

A touch to Sousuke’s shoulder is all it takes to slow his merciless ministrations. Sousuke pulls his fingers out and sits back without complaint, wiping his mouth with the heel of one hand and wiping his other off on the sheets. Seijuurou leans in to kiss him briefly. He catches Sousuke’s bottom lip between his own and sucks, and Sousuke relaxes back, giving Seijuurou room to take his place between Makoto’s legs. They part with a lewd pop before Seijuurou turns his attention back on Makoto. 

Makoto greets his gaze with a dazed smile, his cheeks and neck a dusty pink. “Well?” 

“Well,” Seijuurou parrots back to him lowly. He grasps Makoto’s hips and pulls him closer, lining himself up. “Aren’t we impatient, Birthday Boy.” 

Sousuke hums in agreement, slinking down to lay beside Makoto on his stomach. “So bossy.” 

Makoto breathes a shy laugh. “Would it help if I said please?” 

“I suppose,” Seijuurou says, but doesn’t give him a chance to respond, delivering a smack to his ass that makes him yelp before pressing in. 

Makoto arches, his thighs tensing deliciously on either side of Seijuurou’s hips. Sousuke’s mouth falls against his just in time to muffle his broken voice. For a moment, Seijuurou can’t move, overwhelmed with the image before him and the glorious, familiar tightness currently threatening to tip him over the edge. He takes a deep breath to gather himself. Makoto locking his ankles around his waist and pushing him in deeper REALLY doesn’t help, but he manages to calm down enough to not immediately blow this. 

“Move,” Makoto groans. He lets out a yelp as Sousuke tweaks his nipple, and tags a whined, “please,” to that. 

A stronger man would take advantage of their situation and maybe take his dear sweet time, to really drag out this last birthday gift. But Seijuurou’s only human. He grips Makoto’s thighs and thrusts hard, and Makoto arches again, as if he’s just been electrocuted. He settles back down with a drawn-out moan, but his spine doesn’t make contact with the sheets again before Seijuurou makes his way into a ruthless pace, chasing after that sweet friction blindly. He lets his head loll to the side and bites down hard on his lip. His mind pulses with the smack of their bodies and Makoto’s gasps, entire being a nerve set on fire. 

Sousuke’s deep, cool voice cuts through the burn. “Mmm, Makoto.” 

Seijuurou doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he must’ve, because he has to open them to see Sousuke kiss Makoto sloppily, one hand working his cock and the other grazing his throat. 

“Sousuke,” Makoto whispers, snarling the last syllable of his name when Seijuurou thrusts particularly hard. “Fuck, Seijuur-ahh!” 

Sousuke sits up. The hand on Makoto’s cock leaves in favor of rubbing himself, but the hand at Makoto’s neck stays. 

“Makoto,” he rasps, cupping his nape. “Do you want me to…?” 

“Please,” Makoto breathes. He tilts his chin up to expose his neck further, and Seijuurou swears under his breath at the way his adam’s apple bobs with a fevered swallow. 

Sousuke settles back down, his fingers tightening around Makoto’s throat as he presses his mouth to his. Makoto makes a weak sound and fumbles for his own cock, his hips stuttering against Seijuurou’s, jerking back to meet him.

Breathplay isn’t something they do often, but Seijuurou gives Sousuke props for playing this particular card now. Sousuke is careful and attentive in his ministrations, and Seijuurou can trust him to make this good while his own mind is burning with the chase of his and Makoto’s orgasm. 

Makoto fights for breath against Sousuke’s mouth, parting his lips wide to accept what little air Sousuke gives him, what little air he’s allowed to swallow with Sousuke’s hand on his throat. Sousuke’s being gentle tonight; holding his neck just tight enough that he struggles, just loose enough that he can still gasp out his name. Seijuurou watches the fall and rise of his chest, timing his thrusts accordingly. The room is filled with the filthy sounds of their bodies smacking and Makoto’s broken voice wheezing his, Sousuke’s, and God’s names like a solemn prayer that would make the religious recoil. 

Sousuke murmurs to Makoto’s shaking lips, too soft for Seijuurou to hear. Whatever he says makes Makoto inhale to the best of his ability and slam his hips back to meet Seijuurou’s thrusts, color slowly spreading across his face. 

It’s overwhelming. Everything is hot and wet and hard, and Seijuurou’s knocked out of his rhythm, his body suddenly overtaken with the desperate need to finish this and catch the sweet relief that’s forcing his body to rock this violently. He grips Makoto’s thighs and snaps his hips forward, just as Sousuke releases Makoto’s throat, and Makoto comes with a ragged gasp, his voice cracking with a desperate intake of breath. Sousuke sits up, grabs Seijuurou’s shoulder, and yanks him forward to muffle his shout of relief as he follows close behind. 

The air is suddenly a whole lot cooler in their bedroom. Seijuurou groans and pulls out, slumping back on his heels. He sways, vaguely aware of Makoto’s breathless laughter and Sousuke’s lips at the corner of his mouth. God, it’s like his entire body is ringing with the echoes of his orgasm. 

“I feel like that was more a gift to me than to Makoto,” Sousuke muses. Seijuurou opens one eye to catch his smirk. “What a show.”

Makoto smiles up at the ceiling, the rise and fall of his chest slowing as he catches his breath. “Oh no, definitely a gift for me. I’m still seeing stars.” 

Seijuurou whimpers and collapses beside him. “Ughh. Na-night.” 

He feels Makoto hum in amusement. A hand soothes his back. “Tired already, Sei?” 

“Seijuurou’s a grandpa, it’s not much of a surprise.” 

“Fuck off, I’m only a year older than you two children,” Seijuurou grumbles into the pillow he’s chosen to stuff his face in. He flexes his hands, whining at the ache in his knuckles. “My fingers hurt.” 

“I don’t think you have room to complain, considering who you were grabbing onto the whole time,” Sousuke says. He rubs along Makoto’s thigh, carefully skimming over the bruised marks Seijuurou’s hands left. “I don’t think these are going away anytime soon.” 

Seijuurou winces. “Sorry.” 

“Oh no, please don’t be,” Makoto says. He turns to flash him a tired grin that still manages to be enthusiastically genuine. “I don’t mind at all.” 

“Oh, good. You know, those really aren’t as bad as some of the marks you’ve left on me, now that I’m thinking about it. Ya filthy animal.” 

That makes Makoto laugh. “Oops.” 

“Well, I intend on giving him more, if that’s any consolation,” Sousuke says. He slinks over Makoto, putting them face to face. “In case you’re interested, Birthday Boy, I am still incredibly horny and willing to make up for Seijuurou’s grandfather-esque endurance.” 

Seijuurou gives him a glare. “My endurance is better than yours, you little shit. Excuse me for being slightly tired after fucking Makoto’s ass into next week.” 

“Slightly tired? The first thing you do once your dick is soft is complain.” 

“I did not complain, I expressed my moderate exhaustion. My endurance is still better than yours.”

“Prove it, then.” 

“Maybe I will. Move over.” 

“No, it’s my turn.” 

Makoto grins. “Happy birthday to me.”


End file.
